


All That You Want From Me Is All I Have To Give

by revenblue



Series: [collection] but you keep spinning 'round me just the same (Perryshmirtz) [38]
Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Marking, POV Second Person, Perry's a violent little platypus, there's a strong undercurrent of exasperated fondness here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 10:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15861393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revenblue/pseuds/revenblue
Summary: No matter how much taller he is, or how comfortable his arms are around you, you're notanysort of leaning post.





	All That You Want From Me Is All I Have To Give

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, it's a not-a-drabble for once :D
> 
> And a smut that didn't derail too hard into character study introspection over identity and names... *cough*
> 
> ...Probably bc I didn't intend it to be smut in the first place. Plotbuns, I swear.

"This is nice. Don't you think so, Perry the Platypus?" he says, resting his chin on your head while the movie he'd picked plays out on the screen in front of you, and you growl under your breath. Fuck's sake. You're not an _armrest_. Or a headrest. No matter how much taller he is, or how comfortable his arms are around you, you're not _any_ sort of leaning post.

And yet, despite your _clear_ displeasure, he doesn't move, the little shit.

Twisting around in his lap, you dig your claws into his shirt, licking a stripe up his delicate neck. You know, from experience, that even a light nip to the skin will leave a bruise, a lingering mark displaying your claim on him.

He squeaks, face flushing red, and you allow yourself a hint of a smile. It's so easy to leave him flustered. You barely have to touch him and he's putty in your paws.

Another tug at his shirt and you pull his face closer, the perfect height to nibble at his bottom lip until he moans into you. And if he threads his fingers through your fur, pulls your hips against him - which he does - you'll just have to push him back up against the chair, staring him down.

He pants under you, light breaths ghosting along your bill, and grins. "What's gotten into _you_ today?"

Ideally, him.

With another growl, you rub yourself against him, curling your tail under to squeeze at the bulge between his legs, breathless at the way he shudders for you. Fuck, you love him. Every part of him, from his long nose to the firm heartbeat in his chest, his talented hands, down to his strong legs and the pulsing heat between them. The usual strawberry lime shampoo that can't quite mask the tinge of metal in his scent. His voice too, rough and scratchy in a way you've come to appreciate.

"Not that I'm _complaining_ ," he adds, and you roll your eyes. In all the time you've known him, not once has that ever been true. He can't help himself. One more thing to love about him.

You capture his mouth in a kiss, finally - see if he complains about _this_ \- and trace his rough, chapped lip with your tongue. That's all it takes. His lips part with a sigh, giving you his whole self, and you take it all. Claiming his mouth. Sliding your tongues together, you shove him up against the chair back, trembling with desperate longing.

The distance between you is but a thin layer of fabric and it's still too much, you need to be closer, you _need_ -

He pushes you away and you force down a growl, clenching your fists while he fumbles at his pants. Sweat glistens on his skin, lit by the screen behind you, slicking down his messy hair. A test of your self-control. There's nothing you want more than to lick it off, but until he gives you a sign, you'll wait.

At last, he frees his length, wrapping his fingers around it with a groan, meeting your eyes as he strokes himself. Fucking _tease_. And he knows it, the jerk. "Like what you see, Perry the Platypus?" he says, a smug grin on his face.

All you can do is nod, tail twitching. You can't look away, drinking in the sight of his shirt riding up as he pleasures himself, revealing pale skin that _begs_ for your attention. Any marks you put there will stand out beautifully, and you ache to leave them.

Still, you wait.

" _Someone's_ eager," he purrs, leaning in close until you can feel his breath on your bill, fingers tracing the underside of your own length. "You want it, don't you?" His voice curls around you, low and husky, and you can't help but whimper. You want him so bad, you can barely stand it. His grin stretches wider. "What, cat got your tongue?"

You snarl, composure breaking, and slam your mouth against his. If he wants your tongue he can _have_ it, thrusting past his lips and teeth to tangle with his own tongue, somewhere between a fight and a fuck and a desperate longing kiss. Maybe all three.

His hand slides up your back and you arch into him, only letting go of his shirt collar when he grabs the scruff of your neck and drags you back by force. You can't even fight it, muscles locked tight. Damn your traitorous body.

A flash of a grin and he shoves you under his shirt, fucking _trapping_ you against his bare skin. You're _trapped_. Surrounded by the sound of his steady heartbeat and the smell of his shampoo, your arousal sliding up against his, close enough to bite and claw and _mark_ him.

So you press closer and lick his neck again, not resisting the urge to nip just under his jaw, right where his pulse flutters under his skin. Why would you? He loves it when you mark him up like this, lingering bruises to remind him he's _yours_. The way he squirms and gasps and pulls your hips to his is proof enough of that.

You love him so much. The salty taste of his sweat, the scorching warmth of his body, the heady scent of his arousal. His voice mumbling incoherent words in your ear. And his hands, the hand he's wrapped around your lengths, the hand tugging at your tail, _those_ hands, you fucking love those too.

Claws digging into his shoulders, teeth in his neck, you hold on for dear life as your amazing, frustrating, talented, exasperating, _fucking_ nemesis brings you to your peak.

In the haze of the aftermath, you're distantly aware of him following, gasping your name as he shudders against you, clutching you so so tight. Pressing kisses all over your face, until you tilt your mouth up to meet him.

Floating. You're floating, mouth locked with his, heart beating in time with his, only his hands to keep you from drifting away.

He breaks the kiss eventually, breathing in sync with you, lips brushing against your bill with every exhale, gazing at you like you're his whole world-

Which fits, because he's yours. Marked up, breathless, covered in your cum. _Yours_.

You wriggle out from under his shirt, flattening it down over the mess you made - he won't _mind_ , really, and you've learned how to tune out his habitual complaining - and curl up to lick your fur clean.

"I'm not a _chair_ ," he grumbles, stroking your fur, and you snort. He loves it. So, until he pushes you away, you're staying right here in his lap. Besides, he's right, he's _not_ a chair. More like a bed, really. Soft and comfortable, despite his hard corners and sharp edges, and you're tired. So tired. _Exhausted_. It would be so easy to doze off in his lap, letting his heartbeat and his gentle hands and the movie behind you lull you to sleep.

So you do.

**Author's Note:**

> Tl;dr Heinz is the leaning post in this relationship.
> 
> Title comes from [In The Darkness](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQfY8CaJ_Zo) by Dead By Sunrise, which I've been wanting to make a fic for for a while now. I had another wip for it but that wasn't going anywhere and this did, so. I guess this one won.  
> I've loved the song since, uh, finding a smutfic named after it for my then-ship back in late 2009 probably. Smut or angst, one of them. I went back to look a while back and found two fics for the ship named after it, both of which looked to be more angsty than smutty... Iirc one was kinda songficcy too. Either way, I love it.


End file.
